


Found - Dragon Age One-Shot

by Aneth_Stripes



Series: Dragon Age - Fractured Timelines [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anger, Attempt at Humor, Best Friends, Communication Failure, Cousland needed this, Face Slapping, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, He gets punched, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Multi, Not Really Character Death, Sweet Zevran Arainai, Temporary Character Death, The Author Regrets Nothing, you idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:28:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aneth_Stripes/pseuds/Aneth_Stripes
Summary: This is a short based off of a combined timeline of a Cousland (noble) AND Mahariel (dalish elf) Warden (two timelines in one, fight me). In DAI, letters of a still-alive Zevran were sent to the Herald of Andraste, and it is through this that I debated if Zevran really did die by Cousland's hands. Whether or not it was a mistake with the Keep is irrelevant.The answer I’m going with is no. She never looted his body so there was no real way to tell that he was still alive or not, so I’m running with it and no one can stop me.With this knowledge in mind, enjoy the slapping Zevran so deserves.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai/Female Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Series: Dragon Age - Fractured Timelines [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917967
Kudos: 4





	Found - Dragon Age One-Shot

Would he have revealed himself any other way than by surprise? It had been what, ten years? Five years of mourning and regret before she thought she could finally move on from _“killing”_ one of her supposed friends. 

Yet there he was, as real as the wind blowing against her cheeks and the twigs that broke under her weary feet. He smirked at her like he always did, with eyes of regret and possibly fear. Oh, he should _fear_ her, fear for what she might do to him if she ever got close enough. 

“You’re a bastard.” The words felt like broken venom, bursting through seams of patched burdened wounds. She had no shout, no warrior’s cry; disbelief had already settled from her initial findings of his activity through Leliana. How long it had been since she’d heard from her old friend, but only recently did they manage to write to each other again; talks of old times lingered and dried in parchments sent to her when Cousland had the time. 

This...this was far different than speaking to an old friend. It was through Leliana that she had learned of Zevran Arainai’s survival from their last meeting- the Hero of Ferelden was undoubtedly sore about this, pure shock aside. It’d taken her a week to calm down and another to finally locate and pin Zevran through fibbery and protection from the Crows, who would forever search for the blond idiot. 

Mahariel had secretly known about this too, which surprised Cousland none once she heard of the girl’s involvement; the Dalish elf had always been taken with Zevran when their Warden adventures began and would have done anything to protect her daft beloved. 

Though she respected the elf’s decisions in keeping him safe, this didn’t quell the betrayal and rage Cousland felt upon facing him once more. Life wasn’t kind to either of them; early signs of wrinkles had donned on his face and his smile, though sly, held less truth than she’d ever noticed before. 

“True, though I suppose we both knew this when we first met.” The elf had lowered the black hood of his cloak to fully face her; it did not surprise her to see his eyes darting left and right. 

“I’m alone,” she promised, “and unarmed.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you think I’d try to kill you a second time?” 

“Perhaps,” he spoke with a light smile, “I would not put it past you to try; your face just about screams murder, don’t you think?”

Cousland couldn’t help but recoil at his words; fake or not, his blood had still stained her hands. She truly thought they had burned his body that night. Was she wrong to assume that dead bodies stayed stiff? Was it possible to die with a smile on your face? She didn’t want to think about this; he was alive by some damned miracle. “How-how did you survive? Why would you pretend to let me kill you?” 

Why didn’t he try to speak to her sooner?

“There was only one way to be free from the Crows,” he spoke offhandedly, “and faking my death seemed like a reasonable decision to make. How could I have trusted you, Warden, you who had dealt with something far bigger than companionship from an elf like me?” He tilted his head and smirked. “Would you have truly killed every single one of them for little old me?”

“Yes!” The pain from her shout surprised them both, but Zevran especially. He flinched and watched her warily, braced as if prepared to defend himself. Cousland took a deep breath and settled her nerves; there was no need to snap at him. Could she blame him for not trusting her motives and gaining his freedom?

No, but Maker be damned if she wasn’t angry all the same. 

Cousland started wringing her hands together as she struggled not to turn her gaze from his. “Yes, Zevran, I would have. Your friendship meant a lot to me, but I feel as if I took it for granted. For that, I am sorry that it pushed you to doubt me, to fake your death and run away.” The panic that had hit her years ago was starting to come back. 

Her shoulders shook from the nightmares she’d gone through, both in and out of her mind. Seeing him before her wasn’t enough to shake the sight of his lifeless body. “Tell me this...did you truly not trust me?” 

The elf sighed, fingers that were lax prior had now gripped the edges of his elbows. He was contemplating her question for a brief moment before shaking his head. “That is what you don’t understand, my dear. I did trust you, so much so that perhaps a part of me wondered if you would protect me against my troubles.”

Zevran shifted again, his face darkening for a brief moment. “I was...wrong to try and put that on your shoulders, not when the weight of the world was killing you, as sure as the Darkspawn blood in your system is killing you now.” 

How did he know that? Her body went rigid as she stared at him. Zevran smirked but said nothing; she didn’t expect him to give up the information of how he knew to her, just like he wouldn’t drawl upon the details of his escape. 

A soft breath escaped her lips as she smiled sadly. “Perhaps next time you should allow me to make that decision for myself, Zevran. You did not have to do all of this to set yourself free; I would have fought to the end for you, and everyone else.” 

“Ah yes, I forgot how sacrificial you were,” he muttered, a hand raking through his blonde hair. It had grown out since; lush and faded. Before he faked his death, she would sometimes catch Mahariel messing with his hair, watch how his face would relax; truly, he was only ever comfortable around the giddy, determined warrior. “So what now, Hero? Have you come to finish the job or to dwell on old decisions?” 

“No.” Her hand slipped in a pouch, bringing out gloves that have seen better days; they were worn, perhaps a bit charred, but they were still together. “I remember the story you had told Marariel and me, once upon a time.” Cousland held out the gloves she’d carried with her for so long out to them. “I’ve regretted not giving these to you sooner.”

Zevran’s eyebrow quirked as he glanced at the gloves. “What are those, exactly?” 

“Dalish gloves, ones you had mentioned wanting for before your...supposed passing.” The words tasted like thick iron on her lips. “I kept them as a reminder this entire time, but now that you’re alive, there’s no reason to keep them.” 

His footsteps we slow as he approached her, chuckling softly as he shook his head. “You always had a thing for theatrics; perhaps that is what’s kept you alive this entire time.” He paused for a moment to watch her actions, and when he found none, got even closer. 

Cousland was a tired woman; she’d seen Hell and roared back, spitting in the face of both death and politics. She was incredible and often Zevran would wonder what went through her mind. Once close enough, his eyes lit up. “You were serious, then, in remembering my childish tale.” He smiled again. It wasn’t cocky so much as it was...genuine. “You never cease to amaze, do you?” 

She let him take the gloves, watching as he inspected them with a fond gaze...before balling up her hand and punching him hard enough to send him onto his arse. He grunted and stared up at her in shock. “I knew it! You harlot!” 

“Oh shut up!” she barked, tears borderline slipping from her cheeks now that she was letting them surface. “You deserve that! You idiot, you-you stupid blonde elf, you goddamn suave-!”

“Oh, I’m suave you say?” He smirked as he rubbed his cheek, watching her lips struggle not to smile. “Did you realize this before or after you tried to kill me?” 

Cousland knew better than to act below her age; she was in her early thirties after all. Nevertheless, she tried to kick at him anyway, grunting in frustration when he continued to roll out of the way. 

“Hey, hey! This is abuse now, cease your dangerous kicks!” Zevran finally managed to roll onto his feet, dodging and ducking whenever Cousland aimed for him. “You- whoa! You are quite- _ha, missed_ -eager to kick my ass! Where was this earlier?!” 

“Suppressed!” She shouted, kicking at him and hitting a tree instead. “Ow! Argh, stay still, you idiot!” 

“Haha, no!” He smirked and made a distance between them. “You are, as they say, not in the hugging mood! I for one do not feel like getting kicked in the face!” He pouted and rubbed his cheek. “Here I thought you were better than that, for shame.”

“Oh bite me,” Cousland snapped, aiming to punch him again. He ducked and backed up again. 

Zevran should have been terrified, but he was too busy laughing, dodging her playfully, and allowing her to release the suppressed anger and sorrow she had been holding onto for so long. “Ah, I would, but I do not think Alistair would approve, no?!” Cousland threw a rock at him and he stumbled out of the way. “Cheater! You don’t see me throwing knives at you!” 

“You already did that!” She shouted, throwing another one at him before stumbling over herself, almost tumbling to the ground as he chuckled. “Oh shut up!”

“I would, but laughing at you is much more fun!” Zevran stopped trying to run, watching as Cousland stopped trying to chase and hit him. She stood upright and wiped her misty eyes, giving him pause. 

Her body trembled and she was aching for a fight, but she needed to calm down. Maker, she didn’t need to scare Zevran off. “I…apologize.” She leaned up against a tree and took deep breaths. “I shouldn’t have lashed out like that.”

Zevran chuckled as his body relaxed somewhat; one couldn’t be too careful around a spitfire like Cousland. “As much as I would prefer not getting hit, I cannot say you weren’t justified.” The elf decided that distance would be his safest bet with her; he was certain she would not kill him at this point, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t upset with him anymore. 

He did not miss how she removed her tears. For as strong as she was, she was very much an emotional person. She did care, even when trying to knock him out.

“You’re damn right I was justified,” she spoke, balling her hands tightly when they started to tremble. “Maybe you still don’t get it, but friends don’t treat friends like that.” 

“I’m aware of this,” he replied calmly, the smirk on his face no longer visible. He cupped his cheek whilst putting the gloves in his pocket. He would have to store these later to keep them safe. “Had I not, I would not be here, Warden. Believe it or not.” 

It would’ve been hard for her to debate him; Zevran was smart and quick with his decisions; he could have been out of town long before she arrived. She had to keep this in mind, even as the urge to beat him to a pulp lingered. “I believe you,” she replied simply, tilting her head to study him. “I do.” 

His amber eyes sparkled at this. “Good. I...suppose you’ll want me to keep in touch now?” 

A soft smile crossed her lips as she loosely crossed her arms. “I’m well aware that our paths are different now, Zev. I won’t delay you from yours just as I won’t be pulled from mine. If a letter is too much to ask for, then I shall take today and nothing more.” 

Zevran laughed and shook his head, giving her a bewildered expression. “I should not have expected different from you. Yet...I do not think a letter or two would be so bad.” He pulled up his hood but paused, watching her in silence for a passing moment before speaking. “I regret...no, I do not want to think about what happened back then. I am grateful for the second chance you gave me.”

“What kind of second chance was that?” Cousland inquired. He didn’t respond, giving her a secret smile as he finally lifted his hood. She sighed and shook her head. Of course, always secrets with this fool of a rogue. “Tell Mahariel I said hello.” She knew without saying that Zevran was about to leave; it was never wise for him to stay in one area too long. The Warden knew this all too well. 

“Of all the false promises I have given, this one I give with certainty.” Zevran chuckled and turned. “She would have my head if I didn’t tell her. Try not to die, Cousland.” 

Dying...if she did not figure out a way to cure the ailment that flowed in her and every Warden’s blood, then that wasn’t anything she could promise. Her life wasn’t filled with certainty, only willpower, and a stupid amount of luck and skills. If there was anyone who understood this the most, perhaps it was Zevran.

“And to you, Arainai,” she replied, blinking only once to find him gone. Gone, but not for good. She’d see him again, knowing that he would be watching her as she would try and watch him, as the rest of her surviving friends had. 

As much of an idiot as Zevran was, she trusted him to continue taking care of himself. If he could hide his existence from her for years, then perhaps living was an easier feat for him now than dying ever was. She trusted Mahariel to keep him in his place. Someone had to. 

Cousland sighed and closed her eyes, allowing her body to relax. He was alive, and hopefully, happier than he had been before. Did she forgive herself for the choices she made before? No. Perhaps she would never forgive herself for not helping Zevran sooner, even if she didn’t know it then. At least now she knew. 

Maker pray for him if he misplaced those gloves, she thought with a smirk on her face. Andraste forgive him for not revealing his presence to her sooner. 


End file.
